On the hawk's wings
by Ammaviel
Summary: Inhabitants of Middle-earth have many secrets. Even the powerful Istari don't know all of them. One of them is the existence of a race called Changers. They don't like company, keep to themselves, no one knows their exact number. But they exist. They fight. They suffer. They love. Join one of them on her journey across the world T to be safe.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hobbit. I really don't. Only the main character of this story, my OC.

Well, hello. This is one of my newest stories, the only one I'm going to post for now. It was orginally in polish but I spent a few hour today to translate the first chapter. I hope you will enjoy just as much as I enjoy writing it.

I would also like to apologize for the mistakes. I'm not a native and sometimes make stupid one's. So sorry. If you have time, point them I would be happy to correct.

**Read and review!**

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_**Prologue**_

_Where it's told about elvish army, mysterious wanderers and Gandalf the Wizard_

Dusk has already fallen above Erebor and many bonfires have been lit in the midst of the camp, which the subjects of the elvish king had set at the foot of the majestic Lonely Mountain. The area, burned with the dragon's fire wasn't the best place to camp but the brave warriors from Mirkwood weren't afraid of discomfort. Happy chants were sounding around, because elves are by nature a very radiant folk who value songs and poetry above all

However, when the elves rejoiced with the people from the destroyed city of Esgaroth their king, Thranduil didn't join them. Truth be told no one from his suite did it. Currently he was strolling by the riverbank with Bard, the archer from the Lake-town and one of his friends who covered his face with an enormous, grey hood. The thought of the three of them were focused on the events of the day past and on the thing that could happen on the next one.

Suddenly Thranduil paused and pointed to the small shape emergind from the mist on the horizon. The three of them looked there, even though their human eyes couldn't possibly match elvish ones. The shadow approached quickly and soon all of them saw it clearly. There was a tall, hooded person with a big pack on their back walking the path on the other side of the river.

"Stop! Who's coming?!" shouted Bard when the wanderer came within the earshot. "What are you seeking here and what are your intentions?"

The person stopped where he or she was, as if undecided what to do and then in a few long strides crossed to the band and stayed there. The hood veiled their face and even Thranduil couldn't distinguish stranger's features. From under the long cloak they could only see a pair of run-down boots covered in mud.

"I mean no harm!" the person shouted back from their bank, with the strangely young, high-pitched voice which could be easily mistaken for the female one. "My affairs are mine and mine alone. You have nothing to do with them."

"And yet we can't possibly let anyone who left this Mountain go" said Thranduil motioning his suite, who went with him everywhere, to come closer. The elves, armed to the teeth listened without delay, but the mysterious person didn't budge.

"I mean you no harm" he or she repeated calmly and without moving. "As for the King Under The Mountain, he doesn't know I'm here. And he won't know if I can do something in this matter."

"And why is that stranger?" called Bard, who as a man of honour couldn't stand betrayal, even in the enemy's ranks. "Do you have a quarrel with him?"

In response they heard laughter deprived of any happiness and so hopeless that any of them could doubt the truth in the stranger's words.

"Our pact is done" said he. "The dwarves will stay because of their honour and loyalty. The hobbit because of friendship. I, however have nothing to seek on the court of the King Under The Mountain. On my behalf I can swear to you that I won't bring relief troops for the sieged. Let me go. And you'll never see me again"

Bard and the elvish king met each other eyes. They were likely to upheld the stranger's plea. In their world the word of honour meant more that now and they felt as if they could believe him. And even if he lied and found help for the dwarves… They had enough soldiers to empower anyone Thorin Oakenshield could call.

And then, spoke their third companion, smiling softly under his grey moustache.

"And why, pray tell wouldn't I want to meet you again my dear?" he asked in a happy voice, supporting himself on his long, wooden staff. "From what I remember travelling with you were nothing but enjoyable. I'm also curious why are you leaving your companions in need. I expected more from you"

This said he threw away his cloak and everyone saw benign face of the old man, with grey beard and sparkling blue eyes. Gandalf the Wizard smiled mysteriously, as always but didn't say a word. For a few moments the wanderer didn't speak and only his dark eyes sparkled under the huge hood. At last, he got in the water and wadded to the shore. Elvish soldiers wanted to bar him the way but Thranduil stopped them quickly, curious.

"You shouldn't have leave us Gandalf" spoke the hooded person with a broken whisper. "From the moment you departed it has been only worse and worse. Let me go. I can't do this anymore… I can't…"

Their voice failed them and the person stopped rapidly. Then he or she raised their hand, probably to wipe the tears. While the wanderer were doing it the hood fell revealing their features. The men saw a rueful face of a young woman framed with the dark tresses.

Gandalf sighed heavily and nodded.


End file.
